Protection
by Brown Eyes Parker
Summary: And through it all, she offers him protection. A lot of love and affection, but he's loving angels instead. My final story for LJ Mini Bang.


**Protection**

**A Jane/Lisbon Story**

**By Brown Eyes Parker**

**Author's Note: ****This is my final story for the Mini Bang on LJ, and then I'll be throwing myself into typing up and posting "procellous", and writing my newest story. This story was inspired by a Jane and Lisbon video to the Robbie Williams version of "Angels". ****Also, Tromana beta-ed this for me. So, a huge thanks to her for taking the time to help me out on all three of my stories.**

**Disclaimer:****I own absolutely nothing.**

**.**

**_When I'm feeling weak_**

**_And my pain walks down a one-way street_**

**_I look above and I know I'll always be blessed with love_**

**_And as the feeling grows_**

**_She brings flesh to my bones, and I fear the love is dead_**

**_I'm loving angels instead_**

**_And through it all, she offers me protection_**

**_A lot of love and affection whether I'm right or wrong_**

**_And down the waterfall, wherever it may take me_**

**_I know that life won't break me when it comes to call_**

**_She won't forsake me_**

**_I'm loving angels instead_**

**Angels, David Archuleta_**

_**I was her**_

_**She was me**_

_**We were one**_

_**We were free**_

_**And if there's somebody calling me home, she's the won**_

_**If there's somebody calling me home, she's the one**_

**She's the One, Robbie Williams_**

He sat in a bar by himself, nursing a half-empty glass of vodka. It had been ten months since he'd killed Red John. It was two months since he had been acquitted for murder and released from prison. The closure he had been looking for by shooting the serial killer was nonexistent.

He sighed deeply and stared into his drink, wishing he could drown his sorrows in the clear liquid. He wished there was a way to escape the depression that still plagued him. For fifty-nine days, he had been relying upon the vodka to take the edge off the pain.

"Jane! You _promised_!"

Her voice broke into his cloudy, agitated thoughts.

Quickly, he drank the rest of his drink before setting his empty glass down on the counter and smiling up at her. "Care to join me for a nightcap Lisbon?"

"No!" she replied, "it's time to go home. The bar's closing and it's late."

"Another round for me and my lady friend, Ollie!" he said, ignoring her.

"He's had enough!" she snapped, "give him another drink and I'll see that the state revokes your liquor license permanently!"

"Sorry Patrick, we're closing for the night," Ollie said, wiping down the bar count and taking Jane's glass away from him.

Jane stuck his tongue out at Lisbon. "Spoilsport!"

"You were having fun getting drunk by yourself?" Lisbon asked skeptically.

"I don't drink for fun," Jane answered as he got to his feet and stumbled a bit.

The petite brunette grabbed and steadied him. "Come on, let's get you home. You need something to eat and some water."

"I don't have a home," Jane told her.

Lisbon smiled at the bartender. "Thanks for calling, Ollie. Goodnight."

"I don't have a home," Jane repeated. "Your guest room doesn't count."

He wasn't drunk enough not to notice the look of hurt that flashed on Lisbon's face. He hated the pang that hit him straight in the heart. He hated how he wanted to make her feel better.

"We'll talk about this later," Lisbon whispered as she led him to the bar door and out into the cool, Sacramento evening.

She helped him get into her car and find the buckle. When she had turned the key in the ignition, he fiddled with the radio until he found a song loud enough to make conversation impossible. She would just lecture him again; after eight weeks he had her words memorized by heart.

**.**

"Why Jane?" Lisbon asked later that night. She was sitting cross-legged at the end of his bed.

She had force-fed him some bland eggs and a few glasses of water. He had sobered up considerably in the brief couple of hours.

"Why what?" he asked, leaning against his pillows.

"Why do you drink? You never drank like this before... I miss the old you."

Jane wasn't prepared for Lisbon's vulnerability. It took him by such surprise that he was almost lost for words. But he recovered quickly and sat up, framing her face with his hands. (But he recovered quickly and sat up, before touching her lightly on the forearm with his fingers.)

"I have a better question... why, _why_ are you still here?" he asked.

She pulled away from him like he had burned her and got up from the bed, hugging her arms to her body. "I thought that would have been obvious... _you__'__re_ the perceptive one."

Jane's mouth dropped open in astonishment and he searched for a response to her comment. But for once in their relationship, she had left him speechless.

Finally, as she was leaving, he found his voice. "Where are you going?"

"To bed. It's late and we have to work in the morning."

Her tone was distant, like she had said too much, when really she hadn't said anything at all.

"Lisbon... listen—"

"No Jane. There's really nothing to say." She looked at him sadly. "Try and get some sleep, okay?"

Jane nodded, mostly because there was nothing else to do and he couldn't think of what else to say. There was a long pause, then she came back to his bed and tucked him in, giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, and looked into her emerald green eyes, filled to the brim with sadness.

"Lisbon—" he tried again.

"Goodnight Jane," she whispered, rising to her feet and taking a deep, shuddery breath.

"Goodnight," he replied quietly.

Lisbon closed the door behind her and leaned against it, succumbing to the tears that had been brewing all night.

_How did you go and fall in love with a guy like Patrick Jane? _She asked herself. _You should just let him go __–__ just let him go __–__ before he destroys the both of you._

**.**

Jane stared out the window at the waning moon. He was too tired and too hung-over to berate himself for what he was putting Lisbon through. But he hated himself for it, although he couldn't't bring himself to say it in his mind, or out loud. He sighed and kicked the covers off, turning over onto his stomach restlessly. He had been so wrapped up in himself lately that he almost hadn't noticed it and suddenly the reasons for Lisbon sticking around were crystal clear.

Somewhere along the road of their unsteady partnership to a shaky trust, and then a gorgeous friendship, she had fallen in love with him.

A feeling of heaviness washed over him and he had a uncharacteristic urge to cry. He knew that if he wasn't loving ghosts – if it were another time and another place – that he could love her too. Who wouldn't't love woman, _couldn't _love a woman, that would never abandon him, regardless of everything he put her through? Apparently he was _that_ man; the man who couldn't't fall in love with the woman who was always there for him.

Jane buried his face into his pillow and finally gave into the tears that had been pricking the corners of his eyes. As he cried, he made a decision. It was probably one of the hardest choices that he had ever made.

He was going to leave, for Lisbon's sake. He couldn't't bring himself to put her through pain anymore. He didn't't know if was ready to live without her yet, but he knew he had to find out. He knew that he had to stop loving angels before he could finally move on. And he knew that Lisbon would never forsake him, no matter how far he strayed.

**.**

"What can I get for you tonight, Patrick?" Ollie asked.

"Seltzer on the rocks, with a twist of lime," Jane answered, looking around the crowded room.

"Good." Ollie smiled and scooped some ice into a glass. "Looking for somebody?"

"What? Oh no. I'm waiting for somebody is more like it."

"How's our friend Teresa these days?" Ollie inquired, setting Jane's glass down in front of him.

Jane toyed with the straw in his drink. "I'm not sure. I just got back this afternoon."

"I heard that you'd gone away."

The bartender didn't't press for details, but Jane could tell that he wanted to know what had happened. Jane sighed and took a sip of his drink, relishing in the fizz at the back of his throat. Then he looked at Ollie, who was studying the cocktail menu and pretending to look disinterested.

"I've been traveling," Jane said after a beat. "As you know, things got really crazy after the mall incident..."

_Flashback_

It was raining the morning after Jane made his decision to leave Lisbon. He opened the door and was surprised to find her sitting next to it. Dark circles marred her beautiful green eyes; it was obvious she hadn't slept well the night before.

"Jane—"

He offered her his hand and pulled her up. "Teresa."

"We have to talk," they said together.

"You first," Jane replied.

Lisbon shook her head, and averted her eyes from his.

"No, you first," she whispered.

He cleared his throat, his carefully planned speech from the night before disappeared off without warning. So, he was left without his most powerful tool, his words. Instead, he'd just have to come out and say it without the embellishments. Jane put a gentle hand on her shoulders, but didn't make a move to direct her gaze back to his.

"I'm leaving."

"When?" she asked, still avoiding his gaze with fierce determination.

Jane hid his shock, he had been so sure that she would have fought him tooth and nail on this. He felt a pang in his heart for how out of touch he had become with her.

"As soon as possible," Jane replied, "listen, it's for the best."

She finally looked at him, offering him a wan smile. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Are you okay?" Jane asked.

Lisbon pulled away from him and nodded. "At least you had the courtesy to say goodbye to my face."

"Teresa..."

"Yes?" She asked, a glimmer of hope flashing in her emerald orbs.

"I just want you to know that I _will_ be back one day."

Lisbon had to bite back a _promise_ from slipping out of her lips. Because wasn't Jane leaving exactly what she had wanted? Just the night before she was going to ask him to leave, before he proverbially destroyed the both of them.

"Lisbon, what is it that you wanted to say?" Jane inquired.

"It doesn't matter now," Lisbon replied. "I'll go make some breakfast while you get ready to go."

Later, after they had both eaten, she walked him out to his car, holding an umbrella over their heads.

"Patrick, wait," she said, grabbing onto his jacket to stop him before he got into the car.

"Yeah? What is it?" Jane asked, his hand poised on the handle.

"Promise me one thing? Promise me that you won't drink anymore?" Lisbon said, tentative with her plea. "Please... I won't be there to—"

"I promise," Jane said sincerely, repeating it two more times to get the message across.

"Thank you," Lisbon sighed in relief, though Jane wasn't entirely sure if she believed him still. However, she backed away from the Citroen willingly, giving him space to leave. "Goodbye, Patrick."

Jane managed to smile at her.

"Goodbye, Teresa. I'll see you around, okay?"

"Sure," Lisbon said, thankful that she always had full control of her body and her emotions. She was sure that if she didn't, she'd be on her knees holding onto his ankles and begging him to stay. Or worse, begging him to take her with him.

Jane didn't want to drag it out anymore. He yanked his car door open, tossed his suitcase in the passenger seat, and got in, driving away without looking back even once.

**.**

He drove even though he felt too exhausted to keep going. When he didn't recognize the landmarks or highways, it didn't bother him, he still pressed onwards. Jane continued driving until cities turned to towns and towns turned to farmland. He drove until California became a new state altogether.

Finally, at around two am the next morning he pulled into a twenty-four hour gas station to fill up for what felt like the twentieth time and to get something to eat. He hadn't eaten since Lisbon's breakfast, and now his stomach was growling in protest. He entered the store and the first thing he noticed was that a song by _The Script _was blasting loudly from the speakers. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the lyrics. But even as the song ended, the chorus stayed with him.

"How can I help you?" the bottle-blonde woman behind the counter asked, snapping strong smelling bubblegum between her bright red lips.

"Um…" Jane fished his wallet out of his back pocket and removed a fistful of money. "Fifty on pump A."

"Anything else?"

"Could I get something to eat around here?" he asked.

The woman sighed like it was the stupidest question that she had ever heard. "No, not right now."

"Okay, I'll just buy the gas and a bottle of diet Coke, then," Jane said, even though he hadn't drank soda since he had gotten out of his twenties.

"Pleasure doing business with you," she replied, with a fake smile.

After Jane had filled his tank, he sat in the parking lot while he sipped his soda. A dinky hotel across the street promised vacancy, so he contemplated stopping for the night. He put his car into drive, making the decision to stop for the night. He decided that it would be prudent to get some rest before pressing onward. Driving while tired was a major cause for accidents.

**.**

"You must be down on your luck, mister," a grandfatherly old man said as he let Jane into a dingy, old hotel room. "We haven't had many guests here in the past five years. What are you running away from anyways?"

"Running from?" Jane repeated, swallowing hard. He forced a chuckle. "I'm not running from anything."

The elderly gentleman humphed. "It must be the love of a good woman. You younger people never know a good thing when you have it—"

"I knew it!" Jane said defensively.

"So there is a woman involved!" the man crowed triumphantly.

Jane froze, trying to choose his next words carefully. However, he couldn't decide upon anything appropriate to say, so he remained quiet. He didn't have Lisbon to catch his back this time, if he offended the gentleman.

"Listen son, you have to go back to her right away. Tomorrow morning, as soon as you wake up, get in your car and return to where you came from."

"I can't," Jane finally said.

"Eh, she won't have you anymore?"

"It's not that; I'm not good enough for her," Jane replied.

"And who are you to make those judgments? Let her decide whether or not you're good enough for her."

Jane shook his head. "No, not now. I need to... need to find myself again before I can start anything with anybody."

"George Bernard Shaw said that life isn't about finding yourself, life is about creating yourself."

"Who are you?" Jane asked half impatient, half amused.

"Henry," he answered. "No need to tell me who _you_ are. You're that guy who got acquitted for murdering that serial killer over in California."

"That's me," Jane admitted reluctantly.

"Good for you. If I had been on that jury, I wouldn't't have convicted you either," Henry said, looking like a high school jock who was commending a friend for doing something inappropriate. "So, if I have to guess who the lady is, I'd say it was the pretty little brunette who was with you the whole time."

Jane didn't acknowledge his comment. He just sighed wearily and looked around the tiny hotel room, wishing all the while that he hadn't stopped for the night.

Henry softened, the joviality leaving his voice. He put a fatherly hand on his shoulder. "Listen, Mr. Jane, stay as long as you need. Just promise that you _will_ go back to her one day."

Jane sat down on the bed heavily and barely nodded.

**.**

"What do you think that your wife would want for you?" Henry asked as he and Jane ate lumpy oatmeal and burned toast with margarine ten days later.

"I—"

"I think she'd want you to be happy," Henry jumped in before he had a chance to answer.

"Well maybe I don't want to be happy," Jane said, taking a sip of his tea.

"Everybody wants to be happy, Patrick."

"Are you happy, Henry?" Jane asked seriously.

"Me?" He waved his hand in the air. "I'm too old to be happy. But you, you have your whole life ahead of you. Be brave. Take risks. Nothing can substitute experience."

"George Bernard Shaw?" Jane asked.

"Paulo Coelho," Henry answered, "a very smart man, really."

Jane smiled at this comment. He had grown used to Henry and his philosophizing, it was endearing and sometimes, he said exactly what he needed to hear. That didn't necessarily mean it was what he always _wanted_ to hear, however.

"I have some work to do at Helen's house," Henry broke into Jane's musings. "I think she has a crush on you."

Jane's face broke into a genuine smile. "I think you're wrong. I think she has a crush on _you_."

"_Me?_" Henry scoffed. "Why would she have a crush on me? I'm just an old geezer."

"Helen's too old for me," Jane said, "remember what you told me the other day?"

Henry blanched slightly. "I can't recall..."

"The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing and becomes nothing, Leo F. Buscaglia?"

"I remember now," Henry replied, rolling his eyes.

"Well?"

"Well it doesn't't go for me!" Henry snapped, gathering up their uneaten breakfast and tossing it into the sink. "Come on. We'll stop at Dunkin' Doughnuts on the way out to Helen's."

**.**

Helen was a beautiful; like a timeless, English rose. She looked and acted younger than her seventy-nine years.

"So, Patrick..."

"Helen," Jane replied, offering her a boyish smile.

"Henry tells me that you're going to help him makeover the hotel."

"It's the least I can do," Jane said, "he _is_ letting me stay there for free."

"Yes, he said something about that too." Helen hesitated for a second. "He also said that you were—"

"Running away from something?" Jane finished for her. "I'm not running exactly. I'm trying to clear my head."

"She must be exceptional."

Jane was surprised at the way his pulse started to race at her statement. "She is," he managed.

"May I ask you a personal question?"

"Um, sure," Jane agreed reluctantly.

"Do you... do you love her?"

"Love her?" Jane repeated. He had _never_ thought about love and Lisbon in the same sentence. He knew she loved him, but he had never thought how he felt about her. He twisted his wedding ring uncomfortably. "Love her? Well, I don't know."

"You don't?" Helen asked, with an amused smile.

Part of him wanted to turn and run. Act like a childish boy and leave the table in a fit. He barely knew these people and yet, they were prying into his personal life. Asking about him and Lisbon when they didn't really know anything about them. Instead he took another sip of his tea and shook his head.

"No, no. I haven't thought about it."

"There's room in the heart for more than one person," Helen said, putting a gentle hand on his.

"I'm... I'm—" He stuttered. A virtual stranger had never succeeded in stunning him to silence before.

"Ready to go, Patrick?" Henry asked, poking his head into the kitchen.

"Hello Henry," Helen said, her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink at the sight of him.

"Oh, Helen... hey," Henry replied, smiling at her warmly.

The exchange didn't't go unnoticed by Jane. For a second he forgot their constant badgering about him and Lisbon. He motioned and mouthed for Henry to do something. When Henry didn't do anything, Jane stood and invited Helen to join them for dinner.

All the while, he planned to escape before dessert was served.

**.**

"In marriage do thou be wise: prefer the person before money, virtue before beauty, the mind before the body, then thou hast a wife, a friend, a companion, a second self," Jane said, addressing Henry three months later.

Henry and Helen had decided to get married and in lieu of a Best Man and Maid of Honor, Jane had stood up with them.

"William Penn," Henry said appreciatively.

Jane smiled at Helen. "And for you, one advantage of marriage is that when you fall out of love with him, or he falls out of love with you, it keeps you together until you fall in again.

"I just want to end with, how happy for the both of you. To Henry and Helen."

"To Henry and Helen," their guests echoed as a sweet _Frank Sinatra_ song about feeling young began to play and the couple shared their first dance as husband and wife.

"I have a piece of advice to share with you Patrick," Henry said when the dance was over. "It's time to stop running. Don't wait thirty years like I did. She might be the only person who can help you."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jane lied. He still couldn't't go back to her, not yet. Not when he was just discovering his own heart and the feelings he had probably long suppressed for the woman who was always there for him.

"Dance with me, Patrick!" Helen said, breaking into his thoughts as she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the dance floor.

"You look lovely," Jane said, smiling down at the woman he had almost come to regard as a mother.

"You're not going to be here when we get back, are you?" Helen asked.

"I don't think so," Jane answered.

She smiled sadly. "I thought so. Keep in touch, okay? And find what you're looking for soon."

"I promise," Jane replied, this time meaning it sincerely.

**.**

_Present Day:_

"So, what happened?" Ollie asked as he traded Jane's drink in for a fresh one.

"I left them and drove to New Mexico," Jane answered drumming his fingers on the counter.

"Yeah?" Ollie encouraged.

**.**

_Flashback:_

New Mexico was warm, with beautiful beaches that had white sand and oceans that were crystal clear. The beaches were filled with gorgeous people sipping a variety of cocktails and clad in skimpy bikinis and swimming trunks of various colors.

Jane felt even more out of place here than he had in Blue Diamond. But he couldn't't bring himself to leave. Now when he was so close to a breakthrough in the depths of his heavy heart. Not when he was just realizing the expanse of his feelings for Teresa Lisbon. The intensity of them and how quickly they had hit him left him breathless and scared all at the same time.

He couldn't face her. Not yet, not when he had run away from _her_ feelings like a coward.

Time passed slowly and he started to heal a little more every day. But in his healing, he contemplated staying in New Mexico. He was almost afraid that going back to California would trigger a relapse back into depression.

He had all but decided to look at apartments the day he finally knew it was time to go back home.

He was eating breakfast in his favorite café, when a younger couple that looked almost exactly like he and Lisbon would have in their twenties entered the terrace. It was the oldest cliché in the book, to see a couple almost like you and the person you were pining for. Still, it propelled him into action. He paid his bill, sprinted the short distance to his hotel and prepared to go back to California. To go back to _her_.

**.**

_Present Day:_

"Wow!" was all Ollie could say as Jane threw back the last of his drink.

Jane was about to reply when the bell above the door rang. His head jerked to look and a smile broke out on his face.

She was standing in the entrance, looking more beautiful than he remembered, her eyes searching around the bar. When she found him, her face split into a grin that mirrored his exactly.

He slid off the stool and went over to her, reaching out gently to touch her, to brush a curl away from her face.

"Grace said you wanted to see me," she said, closing her eyes against his caress.

"I did tell her that," Jane said as he swallowed past a lump in his throat.

He had dreamed about this moment dozens of times, and this time it wasn't a dream. She was really standing in front of him, as real as he was.

"Well?" Lisbon asked breathlessly.

He didn't answer her because once again he didn't have the words. So, in reply his lips found her's.

When they broke away, she smiled up at him and said, "Welcome back Patrick. I missed you. I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," Jane said, pressing his forehead to her's and keeping his eyes shut. "I didn't know how much I would miss you. Oh Teresa, I have so much to tell you. You're the one. You've been the one all along—"

"Shh," Lisbon whispered, clinging to him. "We'll have plenty of time to talk later. For now, just be still. Just be still and hold me."

**_The End_**


End file.
